Better Things
by Cherry Champagne
Summary: Crappy Palletshipping, people seem to like it. 8D
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Don't even bother reading if you didn't watch Putting the Air Back in Aerodactyl.

--

Gary was woken up by his chin cracking into the desk, his arm positioned awkwardly above him. Eyes watering, he sat upright on the desk. He'd been sleeping again. Fuck, he'd been sleeping again!

He fixed his spine against the back of the swiveling chair, trying to get as straight as he could, in hopes it would improve his ability to stay focused (or awake.) His head lolled forward as little as he could, he tried to read the report on his low desk. It only took a few moments to realize his eyes were following the lines of text, but he wasn't reading. With a sigh, he closed the manila folder, giving it up as a bad job, and kicked off the floor, letting the chair swivel a few full circles before stopping himself by grabbing onto the lip of the desk.

Night on the island was pretty dark. Crystal and Dora usually got to bed a few hours before he could. Jared was long gone—moved on to better things two years ago. He'd ruffled Gary's hair, like he was a kid—something he'd never done before—and climbed on the boat, waving until the very end of the horizon. Crystal had screamed after him, telling him to visit. He hadn't.

Seemed like his world was getting smaller and smaller, and his days longer and longer. Well, his days _were_ getting longer. But that was just due to the increasingly towering piles of work to be done, not so much cutting into his sleep as chopping away hunks of it. And still, aspects of his life were dropping out one by one. His leisure time was gone. Jared was gone. His social life was now compromised of other professors—and that could hardly be called social, considering they talked of nothing but work. Well, he had nothing to talk about but work. That was his life now.

His green eyes tilted toward the shelf by the window. A couple of framed certificates. A picture of his family, posed and dressed. Impersonal and generic. Aside from that stupid thrust of gold in the center—awkward and angular and cheap-looking. It was made of gold. It could've been made of the solidified blood and tears of all of his enemies, it would be ugly and cheap to him.

He hadn't wanted to go to the stupid ceremony. It was his grandpa that goaded him into it. A total waste of an evening of work, he'd thought beforehand, as Dora tied his tie, jabbering with what sounded to him like a smug pride. She did partially deserve it; she'd assisted him the whole way. Feeling the light bulb flash over his head, he happily suggested she take the award for him.

"What, me? No, it was your work! You're the one who discovered the vaccine, not me." And, with real pride, she patted him on top of his brown mass of hair. "You deserve this, Gary."

It was two hours in. He needed to sit down—he felt violently sick. He'd felt fine before, but two hours of being told by almost strangers the same repeated mantras of support, suggesting they'd been there for him, saying they believed in him, as if he should have thanked them for their contribution, had triggered some kind of illness in him.

He saw an empty chair, felt a glimmer of hope open, and then felt it shatter; someone stepped in his way. A complete stranger.

"Gary, I just wanted to say…" He spoke _so slowly_. "You should be proud of what you've done. I've always thought—"

Gary didn't find out what he'd always thought. He was interrupted by the jet of vomit sprouting up through his throat and onto the man's chest, his body going limp slightly so that it showered him from neck to feet.

The man, who Gary saw now was round and white-bearded, blinked beadily, holding his drink out from himself silently. Somehow, he couldn't get up a good enough guilt to offer any sort of apology. And he felt better, at any rate. Just as the man made some slight movement, he turned on his heel, weaving his way through the strangers hoping to congratulate him, as if he were Pac Man, and to the door.

Dora brought the trophy out to him where he sat on the dock, waiting for the ferry to come to take them home. Umbreon was out, curled up on his lap, ears folded back, inflating and deflating with breath.

"Are you okay?" She asked. Crystal, for once, was quiet, hiding slightly behind her sister's legs as though afraid Gary might start taking them out like targets.

"Not really--I don't want that."

"Just take it. It'll make me feel better."

And now it stood, watching him from its place on the shelf, reminding him of some emotion he couldn't label.

He was only fifteen. He was getting about three hours of sleep a night, working every moment, and he didn't know what for, and he was only fifteen.

A pale blue tinge was forming over the edge of the ocean he could see outside his small window. He bit his lip, then stood, realizing it would be easier to read once he'd had some sleep, anyway.

--

He was woken up by the redness of the back of his eyelids. Red was wrong.

He opened them to verify this; the sun was streaming like a river through his open window, already nearly halfway through the sky.

"FUCK!" He shouted, attempting to throw himself out of bed too quickly and entangling himself in the dark blue comforter. He twisted and writhed on the ground, finally shaking his ankle free, and scrambled out of the room, still fully dressed.

He managed to keep his anger up the whole walk from his bedroom to the kitchen. (It was a pretty large building.) There, Dora stood at the stove, poking at a frying pan full of eggs with a spatula. Crystal was at the counter, her chest thrown over it so that her feet were hanging a foot or so off the ground.

"Why didn't you wake me up!?" He shouted at her.

She turned around, enragingly benign. "You're the one who turned off your alarm."

He did this relatively often; his sleeping self was much less responsible than his waking one, obviously. On every other occasion, Dora had woken him up just a few minutes after she got out of bed.

"_But why didn't you wake me up!?_"

"Look, Gary, you're overworked. It's really starting to get to you. So I thought it'd be alright if we let you sleep in and did as much of your work as we could. We fed all the Pokemon, gave out their medicine and that stuff, that would normally have taken a while for you, wouldn't it?"

He deflated slightly. It was hard to be as mad when she had such good intentions. But it was so stupid—he had to do it all himself. He had been studying the digestive habits of a certain kabuto over the past week, and now he'd be missing a day of data, and she could have ruined something important without realizing it.

"If I need a day off, I'll ask for it, okay?" He snapped. She rolled her eyes and returned to the stove.

The high-pitched voice from the front room began calling to them, announcing a phone call. He gave the room one last disgruntled glare before turning down the hall; he heard Crystal blow a raspberry at his back, and actually felt a soft shame.

The screen blinked to the caller as he lifted the small phone from the cradle.

Gary forgot the sleeping in incident.

He looked a lot the same—thick black hair, jammed under a cap—the old one. The special one. Darkened from so much time outside, with bright, alert brown eyes, the same brief swish of a nose, but with a slightly less rounded chin, unmistakably taller, although Gary couldn't see much but his face. A little less arrogance in his smile.

A fifteen year old Ash Ketchum.

"Hey Gary!" He cried. His voice was rough.

"Ash?"

"Hey!"

"Ash, what're you…I haven't seen you in ages! Where have you been?"

His eyes flicked upward. "Uh, around. Man, it's been so long…I've missed you like crazy!"

He bared his teeth after this statement, looking a bit like he wished he could've taken it back. Gary was glad he couldn't.

"Me…me too." He smiled. Ash smiled back. "Why'd it take you so long to call me? What's up?"

He bit his lip, looking down this time, before admitting, "I'm really sorry to ask this, especially after going to long without…you know, talking…Jesus." He laughed airily. "Do…do you have an extra room or…anything? I…I don't really have a place to stay right now…"

Gary's thought process was jammed by excitement. Without consideration, he cheerfully burst, "Sure, we have plenty of space!"

He knew his decision was right when he saw Ash's face light up, big brown eyes and all. "Oh God, thank you so much. You don't know how bad I need this. I can get a ferry over the day after tomorrow, is that okay?"

"Yeah, yeah…how come you have nowhere to go all of a sudden?"

Ash cocked his head, silent, before turning to peer over his shoulder. "Hey, um, I'm at a Pokecenter, someone else wants to use the phone. I'll see you in a couple days, okay? And thank you so much." He hung up without waiting for Gary to reply.

Numb with elation, he stared at the reflections in the blank screen—his own lax face and the orb of light overhead—smiled at his duplicated self, and twisted out of the seat, back to the kitchen.

Crystal had pulled herself all the way up onto the counter, most likely to be scolded off soon by Dora, who was sliding the eggs onto a plate beside some toast. She looked up to Gary with slight contempt in her eyes, before forcing the plate into his chest.

"You're not too busy to eat, are you?"

He took the plate gently and offered her a smile. "Thanks. I'm sorry, you were just trying to help—I shouldn't have yelled."

She considered him, body set, ready to hold a grudge, then released it. "Okay, you're forgiven. Who was that on the phone?"

Crystal jumped off the counter, having taken half the apology for herself, to allow Gary room to sit down at the bar to eat.

"Remember me telling you about my old neighbor, Ash?" He shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth. "He needs a place to stay for a while, so I told him he could come over here. Is that okay?"

Dora put her hands on her hips. "Gary, we don't have a guest room."

He looked up from his plate. "What? Don't we?"

"You don't know?"

"Well, this place is pretty big, I assumed…"

"Maybe he can sleep on the couch?"

"We don't have a couch!" Crystal laughed. It was true, they had a few unused arm chairs in the room that served as a den, but no couch.

"You should've asked first, anyway."

"I couldn't let him go homeless!"

"Well, then you can just share your room with him, if you're so ready to make sacrifices."

"Fine, I will."

"Then that's settled?"

"Um…" The prospect of sharing a room with Ash felt something like preparing to bungee jump, and he didn't know why. "Alright…he's coming the day after tomorrow."

"Does he have any Pokemon?" Crystal asked excitedly, leaning back onto the counter.

"Uh-huh, lots."

"Cool!"

Dora was gazing around. The overhead light clouded her glasses, turning them into discs of white. "This place is really a mess. Crystal, would you help me clean up a bit?"

Gary made a start to speak, before catching himself. He wanted to help. He still had the report to read, a few studies to check in on, feeding the Pokemon in a few hours, other stuff he couldn't think of, probably…nothing that couldn't be put off. "I'll help."

They both looked up. "Aren't you a little busy to do something like clean?" Crystal asked, offense intended.

"No…I can cram. I want to help."

"Oh, Crystal, leave him alone." Dora moved away from the stove to stand beside Gary, pulling him close in a side-hug, sweetly saying, "You can clean the bathrooms."

He smiled and nodded, already receding back into his head and away from the kitchen, deep in memories and thoughts and fantasies regarding Ash Ketchum.

--

A/N: Reviews not appreciated! Mostly posting because it's easier than emailing to all the individual people I want to send it to!


	2. Chapter 2

Gary paid for the day off (which wasn't so much of a day off as a day of scrubbing toilets and mopping,) by having to work for thirty hours straight, from that night until the morning of Ash's arrival.

He put his hands on either side of the oval mirror in his bedroom, glaring in at his reflection. He tried to intimidate away the bags that had formed under his eyes, the little wrinkles in them, and had his forehead always been that big? He stuck out his lower lip, opened his dark eyes wide and round, and tried to smile naturally. He came out looking shocked. He shook it off, mussing up his hair in the process, and run his hands over it, trying to get it back into place. Lazy smile, lazy eyes. He looked high. He rubbed the butt of his wrists into the divots of his eye sockets, trying to mold them into a better shape. When he looked back into the mirror, his eyelashes were tangled. How was he even supposed to fix that?

He'd managed to catch a few hours of sleep well after sunrise, but his anticipation had kept him from sleeping very deeply or very long. He didn't even feel tired now—he was too nervous. The blankets on his bed were barely disturbed—he'd shaken them into position rather than the usual morning process. He liked his room to be ordered, if not always his lab.

He could barely contain himself from waiting on the dock, or the front step. Try not to look so eager.

It was hot and sticky, for September—he'd opened the window to better circulate the air, but was letting in the humidity in the process. He stared around his room, trying to judge himself, but found nothing he could fully wrap an opinion around, aside from its utter plainness. Bed, desk with nothing on it, mirror, window, and right now, a dirty box fan set up in the corner, whirring loudly. On the door of the closet he'd taped pictures and letters sent to him by his former cheerleaders, who, once he'd gotten over how they made him feel for reminding him of the little snot he used to be, were nice girls. There was a picture of him and Ash as toddlers, petting a neighbor's ivysaur, taped near the bottom.

He peeled it off sadly. Not too eager. He stared at their chubbiness, Ash's dirty socks, how they were glaring at one another, more interested in one upping the other at petting than the Pokemon itself. Carefully, he placed it in the bottom drawer of the nearly empty desk, closing it gently, as if he could damage the photo by shoving it shut as he normally would have.

He looked up at the round clock over his bed. It hadn't been five minutes since he last checked.

Jesus Christ.

"GARY?"

Dora's voice. He jumped, and nearly jogged out of the room and down the stairs—the front room was empty. His hope dying, he walked into the kitchen, where the older girl was chopping tomatoes on a cutting board. Various evidence of cooking was scattered about the room. "Will you take out the trash, and tell Crystal to come in and wash up?"

It wasn't her fault, but he felt a bit of contempt rise regardless. "Yeah, sure."

The trash was ferried off the island, on the returning ship that ferried in supplies. He felt the heat wash over him like a bath the moment he opened the door, making the inside of the house feel arctic by comparison, and decided to rush—humidity meant sweat, and he didn't have time for another shower.

Gripping the trash bag, he scurried across the dirt yard, ducking under the broad leaves he used to be able to walk under straight-backed, and out of the jungle area, into the bright open area, in view of the dock.

There was a boat, closer than the horizon, not close enough to see details.

The bag split suddenly, spilling garbage across his bare feet and the cuffs of his jeans.

He stared numbly, distracted, before swearing at the top of his lungs.

"WHAT?" Crystal's disembodied voice called from behind him, back in the cover of the jungle.

"Garbage bag split. Dora says go wash up." He said it in one breath, holding his arms out in exasperation. Luckily most of the garbage that could rot and stink was thrown in the compost—it looked like mostly packaging, and a few snotty tissues. Gross.

For a morning during which time had inched by like a slakoth, the boat sure was hitting warp speed. He sighed, agitated, and kicked his way out of the small trash pile. Whatever.

The boat was nearing the dock. Gary walked toward it, and stood on the first few planks, biting his lip, trying to make a few last minute decisions—there was a gathering of trash right at the entry way into the island, but that didn't mean everything had to be ruined. He pulled his shirt down, flattening the wrinkles and folds, more as a nervous habit than as an act on self-grooming, and tried to show off how he'd just happened be there. It would've been nice if it didn't seem so painfully like he'd planned it.

And then it didn't really matter.

Ash Ketchum stumbled around from the other side of the boat, thudding along the choppy waves, and grabbed desperately to the railing, waving excitedly, nearly bouncing in his sneakers, grinning broadly, gold and ethereal and _Ash Ketchum_. Little Ash Ketchum and douchy ten year old Ash Ketchum and now fifteen year old Ash Ketchum—taller but still short, black T-shirt and jeans with that stupid hat that made his face more than any of his features, just like he always was, but different—Gary waved back, his mantra of "not too eager" replaced by one of "Ash is here, Ash is here!"

One last bounce, and the boat eased to a stop beside the dock. "Hi!" Ash called, while the driver—someone Gary didn't know, not important—moved up from the lower area of the boat. He unhooked the small door, and Ash spilled through, nearly falling. For a split second, Gary fretted over something, but it was gone too quickly, wiped out by the feeling of Ash's arms wrapping around his back, Ash's face buried in his neck.

He didn't even worry about his spectacular erection as he reciprocated the hug, his wrists crossed over the small of his back. The driver stepped off the boat and onto the dock, watching curiously, Pikachu staring up from his heels, as time passed—the moment stretched until their hug was more like a hold, before Ash finally let go—but still held Gary at arm's length. Big brown smiling eyes that could look black in the wrong light stared into Gary's, and he lost interest in his own eyes bags—every thought sucked away from him like the sunlight into Ash's eyes.

Four years of not seeing each other, and Ash spanned the distance, saying softly but clearly, "Gary motherfucking Oak."

--

Ash and Gary were both overcompensating for the lack of masculinity they'd shown earlier, answering questions in brief, manly grunts and not bumping hips or giggling as they walked back to the house.

"Whatcha been up to?"

"Studies and reports and shit, you?"

"Taking a break from training."

"Wow, wouldn't expect that from you."

"I know."

Pikachu had perched cheerfully on Ash's shoulders, and Gary now had time to observe the difference four years had made in the Pokemon—it had gained some weight, its movements less sharp, a little more relaxed. Passed through adolescence and into adulthood, like Ash had passed his childhood into his adolescence. Gary supposed he had, too. It felt more like adulthood—but, now with Ash to compare himself, rather than just the considerably older Dora and the considerably younger Crystal, Gary felt surprisingly young.

Venasaur was basking on the edge of the clearing that led into the house, grumbling low in its throat. "That's Crystal's—uh, Crystal's Dora's little sister, Dora's another researcher, it's the three of us here."

Ash smiled at the venasaur. "Man, I miss Bulbasaur." He laughed.

Another blast of arctic air as Gary pulled the door open, sure to go in before he had the chance to make another emasculating move, then ruined it by turning to watch Ash come through. His big, alert eyes flicked around, taking in the room, not staying on anything too long—Gary understood why. Impersonality may have been the house's theme.

Crystal appeared in the doorway leading toward the kitchen, her attacking face set. "You're Ash?" She asked unkindly.

"Uh, yeah." Ash looked nervous.

"Gary told me about all your championships and badges and stuff, but you don't look much like a battler. Is that your Pikachu? Kinda chubby, isn't it?" Gary wanted to pick her up and shake her sometimes.

He was surprised at Ash's reaction—eyebrows raised, mouth small. Back when he'd known him, Ash's cannons were always ready for the first sign of attack. Even if it was a little…well, younger girl, he'd never known his old rival to take shit.

He suddenly became mired in memories of the pleasure he'd received from getting Ash riled up, effecting him so deeply, just being a superior asshole, watching the power of his small comments send Ash into a rage—he shook himself out of it.

Pikachu jumped down from Ash's shoulder, landing with surprising grace, and hopped its way, instead, up onto Gary's back, perching himself on top of Gary's head, seemingly unaffected by the insult.

"Oh, hi." Gary said, reaching up to rub it between the ears.

"Oh, is this Ash?" Dora walked in from the kitchen, beside her younger sister, rubbing her hands on a dish towel. "Hi! I'm Dora, nice to meet you. Gary's told us a lot about you."

Ash nervously rubbed the empty spot left on his shoulder. "Haha, yeah, so I gathered."

"Oh, what a cutie!" Dora attempted to pat the Pokemon on her colleague's head. Quickly, Pikachu glared, and sent out a tiny static shock into her fingers. "Ow!"

"Pikachu!" Ash snapped, rushing forward to grab it back. He held it under the arms, short legs dangling. "What did you do that for?"

"Piii…" It showed no remorse.

Dora shook off the spark, laughing. "It's alright, it didn't hurt. Come on in the kitchen, lunch is all ready for you."

Now that the distracting elation was gone, Gary noticed the grey under Ash's eyes. Where did that come from?

Umbreon was loitering under the table, which had been set and loaded more properly than it had ever been for the three of them. Pikachu wiggled free from Ash's grip, mumbling happily, and scurried under the table.

The two Pokemon sniffed one another's noses simultaneously, then circled and smelled at the other's haunches. Pikachu dove out from under the table, and Umbreon followed, making small, happy noises.

"They made friends fast." Ash deadpanned, eyes wide.

"Wash your hands and go ahead and dig in." Dora said, taking a seat herself, beside Crystal.

"Actually…I'm really sorry, but I'm really tired…would you mind if I just took a nap?" Ash appeared honestly remorseful—he held his arms behind his back, chin tucked in toward his chest.

"Oh…sure, that's alright. I'll save you a plate for if you get hungry later, alright?"

"That'd be great, thank you so much." He smiled sadly.

"Gary, show Ash your room."

"I'm staying in your room?"

"We don't have a guest room, apparently."

"Or a couch," Crystal added as she scooped salad onto her plate.

Pikachu and Umbreon were tussling in the living room as Gary and Ash passed through—they watched them silently, transfixed.

Ash looked at Gary's room the same way he had the foyer—until he saw the closet door, with its collage of pretty girls. He didn't ask, but silently considered, eyebrows knit.

"You get the bed, the bathroom's right across the hall—you need anything?"

Ash stared at the bed now. "Where are you gonna sleep?" He asked slowly.

"I'll make up a nest on the floor, don't worry about it."

Ash frowned. "…Nah, I'm fine, thanks."

Gary smiled, and sadly left Ash alone in the room. He felt like he was making a horrible mistake by doing so, like they were having their last encounter over again, even though he knew Ash would be right in the room, right down the hall—he couldn't stand to see him go, no matter on what scale.

The latch clicked like a falling ax, and he went back to the kitchen to eat without tasting and talk without thinking.


	3. Chapter 3

Gary took wide, slow, silent steps into the room. It may have been simple, but the few objects he did own were crammed in—he was careful not to slam into anything and risk waking the curled-up lump of blankets snuggled against the wall.

He dumped his armload of pillows and blankets on the small space between the bed and the desk, and, exhausted and awkward, forewent properly setting up a makeshift bed and instead flopped on top of the mound. He hoped the air conditioner would kick off soon.

Ash gave a small grumble above him. Gary jerked his neck to look up as his new room mate sat up, rubbing at the dried drool on his chin, his eyelashes sticking together. In a voice half asleep, half almost panicked, he asked, "What time is it?"

"A little after two. You've been asleep for about fifteen hours."

He made a noise that sounded like words, but couldn't have meant anything. "V'you seen Pikachu?"

"Yeah, Pikachu's sleeping in the living room—Umbreon's with it."

Ash sighed. "I always sleep with Pikachu."

"You want some water? You're probably dehydrated."

He shook his head dazedly, getting copious amounts of hair in his eyes in the process. "Would...would you come up here?"

"…"

"I'm just used to having something else in bed with me, is all…if…if you don't want to it's alright—"

"No, it's okay, I don't care either way."

Ash was quiet as he stood, gathered his bed makings, and tossed them onto the bed.

"Thanks."

He dug his way under the mass, feeling his bare ankle brush Ash's, felt a stupid magic rush through him, and managed to get himself comfortable. Ash moved slightly away from the wall—they were facing in opposite directions. Their butts and backs were touching.

Dear _Lord_ the boy was warm. He was reminded strongly of being a kid, clinging without self-consciousness to relatives before falling into an easy sleep, happy and safe and strong. Warm and soft. He squeezed his legs a little more tightly together as Ash's butt gave a little twitch—the just-before-sleep kind of twitch. No way could he sleep tonight. He had to be aware for this as long as he could.

That was the last thought he had, before the blaring of his alarm clock pulled him out of a dreamless unconsciousness.

He swore inside his head. Ash grumbled, rolling closer to the wall, pulling the covers away until Gary was completely exposed to the strong push of coldness the air conditioner directed at his bed—the bed—and he stumbled off the mattress, to the window sill where the clock sat, to quickly shut it off before it woke Ash completely.

He got dressed in the room, sure Ash was completely out, and quietly went to feed the Pokemon.

--

"Ash…"

The lump twisted and writhed away from him. He put his hand on it, not sure what lay below the covers, and shook.

"Ash, wake up."

A rattling yawn drained, muffled, through the covers. "Whyyy…"

"You've been asleep for almost a day. Come to lunch, Ash."

"M'naugh hungry…"

Gary straightened up, lower lip stuck out. Ash was always hungry.

"Come on, get up."

Finally, the lump rose, still under the blankets, before pulling them off of himself. His eyes were still closed against the soft light glowing through the blinds.

"Hey sleepyhead. C'mon, you've got to drink something at least."

He swung his short legs out of bed, and Gary saw that, in the course of the night, he'd wiggled his way out of his jeans, leaving him in his T-shirt, a pair of boxers patterned with stupid pokeballs, and white socks.

Gary followed Ash out of the room—he was walking slow and dizzily, knocking his shoulder on the door frame—and out to the kitchen, where he plopped down in the chair closest to the door and chugged the dewy glass of water Dora'd put in front of his table placement.

Conversation was dictated by the two researchers—they were working together on a study, trying to figure out why every anorith they cloned died within a few weeks—while Ash slowly nibbled at his food, pushing it around the rim of his paper plate, then excused himself and shuffled back to Gary's room.

He worked through the afternoon, distracted and worried.

When Gary tried to wake him for dinner, he solidly refused to leave the bed. Gary found the biggest cup in the cupboard, filled it at the sink, and forced Ash to sit up in bed and drink the entire thing, before feeling his forehead—no fever—and letting him go back to sleep.

He didn't wake him before climbing into bed the second night—now, both facing the wall. Gary was terrified of the idea of being the one who closed the gap between them, and wasted that night laying on his stomach with no body heat being shared between them.

When the alarm went off this time, he shut it off quickly again, before climbing back into the bed. Ash was sleeping in a strange position; his arm crossed over his neck, reaching to cup the back of his own head, the other tucked into his arm pit, chin hidden between them.

"Ash."

No response.

Hand over hand, he pulled the covers off of the other boy. It took a moment before his face scrunched up, making a little wrinkle in his nose, and he groped blindly, wiggling his way toward the direction the blankets had disappeared to.

It hadn't been his intention, but God was it a bonus when Ash cuddled up to his side, trying to wheedle the blankets back with his weak grip.

"Aaash…"

Big, brown eyes burst to life in the dark room.

"Time's'it?"

"Five. …AM."

He sat up and ran a hand through his tangled hair. Gary rose to his level.

"Pikachu?"

"Uh, I dunno…will you get up already? You've been asleep since you got here, that's…" he did the math quickly, "about forty hours you've been asleep. You feeling okay?"

He nodded drowsily.

"Go take a shower, you stink really bad. I'll get some food ready, then you can eat while I shower, then you can come help me feed the Pokemon. Okay?" He smiled optimistically.

Ash scrunched up only one side of his face this time. "I'd rather just go back to bed…"

"Stop being so useless."

Ash looked up at him, wide-eyed, before sighing in defeat. They both crawled off the bed, Ash falling to a squat on the ground and resting a minute before getting enough blood in his head to fully rise. Gary gave him a towel from the closet, told him to use the cheaper shampoo, and let him go.

While making a much greater effort over breakfast than he had ever for himself, he burned his hand, got eggshell in the pan, and dropped the milk jug, which thankfully didn't crack. He couldn't shake the curiosity of what Ash was doing just twenty feet away.

And once Ash finally shuffled into the kitchen, smelling soapy and unlike himself, but with the alien grogginess mostly dissipated, and he found himself in the shower, rubbing the soap over his forearms, he couldn't help himself from thinking that it hadn't even been able to dry since Ash was rubbing it on himself.

He sat down on the shower floor and masturbated. He hadn't done that in months—maybe a year. A fifteen year old boy that couldn't find the time to jack it.

Ash was half in the fridge when Gary came back to the kitchen, the small light reflected in both eyes, mouth slightly agape. His plate was gone from the table.

"Oh hey—" He grabbed a Tupperware container from the back of the fridge, turned, and showed it to Gary. "Mind if I eat this?"

"What happened to the stuff I made?"

"I ate it, it was really good—I'm _starving_. Can I eat this?" He shook it impatiently.

"Uh, sure." They passed as Ash moved to the table and Gary moved to the microwave, to pull out his lukewarm breakfast. He sat in the seat directly across, and before managing to eat anything, was transfixed by the ferocity with which Ash attacked the insides of the plastic container. He was half done before he could gather his concentration enough to initiate conversation. "So…why the training break?"

He spoke through a mouthful of food. "I don't know…I've been training constantly for the past five years, I'm just kinda…tired. I don't know. I need a break."

"I would've never thought you'd say that. You were always," he made a fist in mid-air, doing his best imitation of Ash's determined face, "'I'm gonna the best champion ever _ever_!'"

"Was _not_." He swallowed loudly. "I'm just really focused. Still am—this is really just a break."

"I believe you."

"Hey Pikachu!"

Gary followed Ash's suddenly bright gaze, to where the chubby Pikachu was waddling happily into the room. "Pikapi!"

It hopped onto Ash's lap and put its stout paws on his chest, staring up at him, delighted. "You wanna help us feed the Pokemon, Pikachu?"

"Pi, Pikachu!"

He started scratching the Pikachu behind the ears.

Gary was still finishing up his food at his own pace. "So what's wrong with your house that you can't stay there?"

He scratched Pikachu under the chin, face set and silent. "Mom's just…busy."

"What happened to Brock?"

"He's living with Suzie and that other guy—oh, uh, they're a couple of breeders, they run a salon—they're already crammed in, I don't want to bother him."

"Misty?"

He went rigid now. Gary raised his eyebrows as he lowered his face, cap bill covering his eyes. "Is it so weird hat I just wanted to stay with you?" Pikachu took the opportunity to nuzzle at his chin.

Suddenly put on the defensive, Gary lifted his hands, wide eyed. "No!—no, that's not what I'm saying, you're welcome here, it's just…not where I'd expect you to come first."

"Well, I haven't seen you in four years and all…you were always an asshole, but I do miss you."

Ohh…. "I miss you too, asshole."

The hat bill lifted, and Gary was treated to another Ash smile.

--

"When's break time?' Ash sighed, falling butt-first into a pile of straw in the corner of the small building that housed the baby Pokemon, his legs splayed.

Gary knelt on the other side, separated by the shallow, artificial pond, holding a palm-size omanyte up close to stare into its eyes. He shined a penlight in the left, then the right, watching its pupils dilate and expand. "I usually grab some food after I finish up in here, but I eat in the lab a lot…"

"Food's not a break, food's a necessity."

Gary was surprised Ash got whipped so fast; he still counted the time as early on in his daily schedule, not far from halfway, but still. He set the tiny omantye down on the dirt floor, and it waved its tentacles affectionately.

"Are you done feeding them yet?"

Ash nodded, pointing vaguely at a small assortment of bowls at the edge of the water. The baby Pokemon were gathering around them, except for a few, who were sniffing suspiciously, pointedly avoiding their meal.

Gary raised an eyebrow and moved forward to investigate, hovering close over the small crowd. "You poured two bowls of the kibble and none of the calcium mix."

"Huh?" Ash sat up slightly.

"The newborns have to get the calcium mix, their digestive systems can't take the kibble." He shooed a few lileep away from one of the bowls, picked it up, and moved back to the corner of the shed, where they'd hauled in the bulky bags of food from the store room. He squatted, poured the bowl out into the dirt-smelling bag, and started to fill it up from a smaller box full of tan powder.

"Sorry…"

He poured out milk from a carton, making the contents of the bowl smell even more repulsive. "It's alright. Hey, after we clean up here, I'm just gonna grab something from the kitchen and head to the lab, there's not a lot you can help with, you want to go for today?"

He saw Ash considering this, Pikachu crawling up onto his stomach, as he placed the food back with the other bowls. The suspicious Pokemon cheerily rushed forward. "Well, what else is there to do here?"

"Uh…I think we have cable…"

He was rubbing Pikachu between the ears. "Would I bother you if I kept hanging around?"

"No, but it's going to be boring."

"That's alright."

--

Gary sat at the desk, scribbling down the unphenomenal findings for the day—mostly things containing the word "still". Same thing he'd done yesterday. Outside the window, he could see Crystal run past, Aerodactyl overhead—he lifted his dark eyes for just a second to watch, expression stoic, before looking back down to his log book.

He twitched slightly as a crack sounded behind him—he jerked his gaze over his shoulder, where Ash was looking shocked, gripping the sides of his metal chair.

"I—I was leaning back and I dropped…"

Gary bothered to give him a half-smile before, once again, going back to work.

"Are you wearing hair clips?"

He rose his hand to rest on his forehead. "They're hair pins, it keeps the hair out of my face while I work."

Ash's chair legs bounced twice against the metal floor before he spoke up again, "Aren't those…for girls?"

"They're for hair."

"If it gets in your face so bad, why don't you just cut it?"

Gary actually stopped to think about that question, glaring down at his desk, lip jutted forward. He knew the answer, but it sounded wrong inside his head. "Because…I like the way it looks?" Damn, had he ever actually thought about it? He had inconvenient hair that got in his way, and he kept it because it looked good. For the third time, he felt fifteen.

"Yeah, you'd look weird with short hair."

That justified it enough that he could get his mind back to work.

He managed to concentrate for a few more minutes before another distraction came up; Ash had stood up out of his chair and was investigating the few contents of the small room. He was obviously going out of his way to be quiet about it, but the small scuffling noises of his sneakers and the tap of his light fingers was as bad as if he weren't.

Gary gritted his teeth and tried to force his mind into the growth chart he was filling out, actually finished a couple, and then jumped again—something had shattered behind him.

He spun around in the chair, eyes wide, to see Ash standing near the shelf, gaping at something jagged and gold at his feet—the stupid trophy.

"Oh my God, Gary, I'm _so sorry_—I—I picked it up to read the inscription but it was heavier than I thought it would be—oh—" He stopped, eyebrow cocked, and stared at Gary as he burst into laughter.

"Ah—Ah—Ash…you fucking dropped it!" He gasped for air. "I can't…you just fucking _dropped it_!" He was fully aware of how retarded he sounded. He couldn't really get himself to care, though.

"Uh…why's it funny?" Ash's posture had relaxed, guilt lost to confusion.

Gary, still laughing, stood up from his swiveling office chair to clap a hand on Ash's shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Ashy-boy. Now get the hell out of my lab."

Dazed, Ash did as told, giving Gary one last confounded look over his shoulder before closing the door behind him.

He giggled as he kicked the pieces against the bottom of the shelf, just to get them out of the way. All this time he could've just dropped it himself, he never even thought about it—well, at any rate, he was rid of the stupid thing. He went back to work, but with a new smile on his face. He had a very strong premonition that things were going to be getting better.


	4. Chapter 4

"Gary Gary Ash got hurt!"

Gary spun alertly in his office chair, eyebrows high on his forehead. Crystal stood in the newly open doorway, fists clenched, out of breath.

He stood up as she whipped around and hauled ass out of the office. He quickened his pace to catch up with her, until he was jogging at her side on his significantly longer legs.

"How'd Ash get hurt? Where is he? Is he okay?"

"It's not Aerodactyl's fault!" She insisted first of all.

Gary's sense of doom deepened.

They had fallen into a quiet, comfortable routine, like a slightly sweetened version of his pre-Ash life (not pre-Ash, exactly—that had never really existed.) Ash helped in small ways with the grunt work, then the two split, Gary for his office, Ash to roam the island with the youngest citizen. It had been three weeks.

Crystal grabbed his hand as they stepped onto the soggy dirt yard, dragging him through the thick brush and into the forest. He used his unoccupied hand to bat away at the sticks, not really feeling any scratches, holding Crystal's hand tightly.

When they finally broke through to the small clearing he'd had few reasons to visit before, the two let go—Gary rushed ahead, Crystal looking troubled at the edge of the forest.

Ash sat, his legs crossed orderly in the Indian style, holding tightly to his left arm. Blood gushed between his fingers, pooling in the crook of his elbow and dripping to the dirt. He looked like he was trying to push all the blood back inside of him—he scooped at the stream of blood and lifted it up to the desecrated skin, trying to keep it all from escaping.

"Don't freak out, it's not as bad as it looks—"

Gary fell to his knees, peeled Ash's pale, sticky hand away from the wound, and gently held him by the forearm. It was far from a clean wound—the majority of the skin on his arm had been torn to shreds, a few deep fang marks penetrating so deeply he could've gotten his finger up to the first knuckle in them.

"Crystal, what did Aerodactyl do!?" He shouted without looking back at her. Ash did his best to roll his eyes, but instead fluttered his eyelids. He was turning pasty.

"It's not Aerodactyl's fault!" She insisted again. Desperation strained her voice, cracking it on the last syllable.

"It really wasn't, G-Gary…really…" Gary locked his glaring eyes onto Ash's in order to shut him up.

"We were playing around, and you know Aerodactyl isn't good with meeting new people, and I told Ash, I said, 'If you're too nervous, it'll make him nervous, and if he gets nervous he might bite,' and Ash _said_ 'no problem,' but _was_ nervous, and he was petting the back of Aerodactyl's head and he coughed and Aerodactyl got scared and he bit him, but he was _scared_, Gary!" He could hear the snot gathering in her throat, and knew without looking back that she was crying.

"It's alright, Crystal, I know it's not Aerodactyl's fault…" His wrists and hands were blood soaked. He grabbed onto Ash's good arm and started to pull it over his shoulder—Ash began to protest, before his knees buckled slightly, and he allowed Gary to support his weight as they both stood.

"So you're not gonna get rid of him?"

"No, no—it's alright. We're gonna need to get Ash to a hospital—"

"What?" Ash turned to look at Gary—their faces were uncomfortably close. "I don't need to go to a hospital, look, we can just bandage it up, I'm fine—"

"Ash you're going to need _a lot_ of stitches, and probably some antibiotic—don't be such a brat." They glared at one another, but Ash's inability to stand drove Gary's argument home. "We need a ferry…oh, Christ, that'll take too long."

"Use one of the lapras!" Crystal's voice had gained some power.

Gary smiled at her, half-dragging Ash out of the clearing and toward the dock. Crystal trotted at their heels. "Good idea. Can you get one to…?"

She nodded, and as they burst into the sunlight, she ran forward, within feet of the cliff leading off the island, inserted two fingers into her mouth, and gave a shrill, air-cutting whistle.

"Really, it's not that bad…can we please just stay here…?"

"Shut up, Ash." Small blue objects were appearing around the other side of the island, growing bigger, until they could be identified as a small crowd of lapras. "Crystal, tell Dora I took Ash to the hospital on the mainland—we might stay the night there, it's gonna be pretty dark by the time we finish up, okay?"

She nodded, wiping the snot from her lip with the back of her wrist. Gary stepped gently off the dock, leading Ash to the footholds on the lapras' shell, Ash's weight almost fully on Gary—his back was pressed into Gary's chest, blinking in a dazed way, his eye bags stark against his pale new complexion.

Crystal called, "Go fast, Lapras!" before they set off into the easy waves surrounding the island, the Pokemon making its soft whinnying sounds.

Once they were out into the deep water, with the mainland still a soft smudge of dark below the vast mantle white sky, Gary began to wiggle into a more comfortable position—the large outgrowths of shell both gave them a good support system and kept them from stretching out much. He managed to brace his back against one of the pillars, Ash's head lolled on his shoulder, still trying to keep all the coagulating blood in his arm, but in a sleepier, less frantic manner.

"Don't fall asleep, Ash." He twitched his shoulder, bouncing Ash's head.

"I wasn't…"

"How you doing?"

"I'm fine. You're making a bigger deal out of this than it is."

"You keep on thinking that. No, don't close your eyes—"

"…Did we leave Pikachu?" His eyes widened from their sleepy lilt, head lifting a fragment from Gary's shoulder, lessening the weight but not taking it completely away.

"Yeah, Pikachu was with Umbreon—it's okay, you two can spend a night away from each other. Dora and Crystal will take care of it."

Ash blew a stream of air out through his nose, eyebrows knit, but didn't bother pushing the topic.

Gary thanked whatever deity was listening for the smooth weather—the waves didn't do much but lap at the lapras' fins as the two boys rode, Gary shaking his shoulder and asking Ash easy, conversational questions, just to make sure he wasn't passing out. The blood flow slowed, dried brown on his arms and showed the lines in Gary's palms, until Ash stopped pushing at the rips and tears and simply held his hand against his arm for comfort, his fingers stuck there.

The sky turned from white to a dull, dryer-lint blue.

Once the lapras pulled to a stop alongside the concrete block raised over the water, the edge of the town closest to Sayda, a wide-shouldered man walking with his daughter caught sight of them. He hauled Ash's half-asleep self into his arms, like a bride over the threshold, with Gary and the tiny, excited girl at his heels.

It was nearly midnight by the time the doctor finished wrapping a bandage around all seventy stitches in Ash's arm. Luckily Gary was well-known in the town—the receptionist accepted his promise to send a check for the hospital fee with a smile, nod, and thanks for all his hard work back at the lab—she referred to the vaccine that had gotten him the prize, and he awkwardly made his escape, claiming a need to get Ash into a horizontal position.

They walked through the dark, nearly abandoned city, their footsteps creating a filmy sound over the waves crashing against the cement barriers.

"Ash, you're wobbling…"

"Am not…"

"C'mon, lean on me a little…"

"No, I'm fine."

"I just don't want you to fall, I can't afford more hospital bills."

"I'm not going to fall."

"Just do it, Ash…"

"Here, I'll hold your hand, that's it."

"Fine."

They averted their eyes to the extreme opposite of the other as they walked toward the motel, hand in warm, calloused hand.

Another lucky break at the hotel, the night manager happily greeting Gary and accepting his promise to send a check without even taking a moment to consider. They got their key, dangling from the cheap little key chain, and with pointed directions, walked back outside to the ground-floor motel room. He had trouble fitting the key into the lock, until he slowly and carefully fitted the end in, and with a solid click of metal passing metal, the door fell open to reveal a room containing two twin beds, a table with a bolted down lamp between them, a small TV, and an ugly painting on the wall.

Ash sat on the foot of the bed closest to the bathroom as Gary fiddled with the furnace under the window, trying to get the air conditioner to work and dissipate some of the sweltering heat, the silence creating a sound of its own. He finally stood up, wiping his dusty hands off on his pants, and admitted to the room that he did not have the mechanical genius to work a motel air conditioner, trying to keep the frustration and tension from his voice. Ash reacted only in a half-smile.

One light left on, Gary stripped off his damp shirt and jeans, trying to be inconspicuous as he turned away from Ash so that only his back was visible. He crawled quickly under the covers of his window-side bed, muttering a good night, and wished the light would go out fast so he could get out from under the insulating blankets and into the cool, hiding darkness. Eyes closed, he listened as Ash fidgeted for a few minutes, giving a small, occasional grunt.

"Ugh…Gary?"

"Yeah?" He didn't turn.

"I…I can't get my shirt off."

Now Gary turned. He propped himself up on his elbow to give Ash a scrutinizing glance—his bum arm was folded up to his chest under his shirt, the collar over his chin, looking sheepish and blushing.

"Help…"

Gary sighed, uncurled himself from under the smooth and unfamiliar motel bed, and crawled over onto Ash's bed.

"Can you…here, put your other arm up…"

The two managed to ease his white T-shirt up, until his face popped out from beneath it like a diglett popping up out of its hole, wide brown eyes catching the dim light like they had caught the sun on his first few steps onto the island. The two boys sat on Ash's bed in their boxers, Ash still in his holey and grey socks, trying to find some comment to make, but coming up empty. Gary spared them both the prolonged awkwardness by offering a quick smile and getting back into his own bed, while Ash wiggled his way under the tightly-tucked comforter. With another heavy sigh, he reached over and turned out the light.

The sound of shuffling into comfort in the new environment had hardly stopped before Ash broke the silence once again.

"Gary…are you asleep yet?"

He considered not answering. He might have, had he really had a choice. "No. You okay?"

"Yeah…I…I'm really sorry…I still…can I go over there?"

Gary let them each breathe three full times before responding with a lax "Myeah."

Ash made a lot of noise managing his way out of his own bed and across the short distance to Gary's, a lot more peeling up the blanket and crawling under, their sweaty arms grazing, bed springs creaking.

Gary could smell himself before, and now could smell the same scent on Ash—medical, coppery, sweat and humidity and heat. Their bodies were isolated from the shoulders down, claustrophobic but not uncomfortable. Gary scratched at his crotch over his boxers, hoping to get some sort of release, but it only whetted his ache.

Ash gave a shudder under the blankets and moved slightly closer.

Gary turned, and for a spectacular moment their chests were pressed up against one another, Gary's cold necklace the only thing separating every tissue from their collar bones to the end of their ribs, before both made a soft squawking sound and backing up. He thought, for just a second, he felt something below, pressing into his lower belly—he was paranoid. He felt deliriously hot and sleepy and alert.

He was almost asleep before, what must've been three minutes later, Ash shifted again—they couldn't stop it, their skin kept brushing. This time Ash's cold foot slid over Gary's calf, sending a new wave of chills pouring in from all over his body to settle in his groin. His breath hitched. He could feel a heartbeat, his or Ash's, he couldn't tell.

It was him the third time, the best time. He moved down slightly, trying to get his head to fit to the pillow, and his butt slid into the corner caused between Ash's waist and his legs, and for just a second, they spooned. His bare back shoved up against Ash's soft belly, shoulder blades against his chest, and a hard mass just above the crack of his ass.

They both gasped in tune. Gary sat up, his breath escaping and pouring into him too fast to get anything from either, Ash curling up deeper into the blankets, hiding in them, but with his brown eyes bright in the dim light, mouth open, faces locked and minds equally blank.

Time stretched thin.

Ash made the first move, and Gary's heart started beating again. He came out of his shell of blankets, sat up at Gary's level, eye contact firm, bad breath on one another's face.

"If…you…"

"You…?"

"I…just if…"

They both screwed up their faces slightly, tortured.

Ash made the second move, too. Gently, all four eyes open wide, he closed the gap between their faces.

Soft and chapped, their bottom lips pressed against each other, not a real kiss, just a pressing of mouth on mouth, facial contact. Gary felt weak and shivery, and relied on Ash to finish the job he had started—their top lips touched, and the space between them opened, until their teeth were pressed against one another as well.

It was felt nothing like it had always looked. He didn't hallucinate angels and trumpets and fireworks. He didn't feel anything but the touch of Ash against him—bare and quiet.

Ash wrapped his arms around Gary's back, the bandage scraping against his ribs, and pulled the both of them down, Ash on his back and Gary on his hands and knees over him.

The air conditioner kicked to life.

"You know what to do, right?" Ash asked, his head cocked slightly against the pillow.

"Just…just give me a minute…"

Gary lowered himself, until their entire torsos pressed, his chin on Ash's shoulder, breath shuddering out of him. So long catching tiny touches and brushes, savoring them like water droplets in a wasteland, and now he was drowning.

"C'mon…"

Gary nodded into Ash's shoulder and rose again, the newly bare skin cold and clammy. Ash was working off his own boxers, and Gary caught his first look. He flushed deeply.

Gary had to help untangle Ash's boxers from around his ankles, before he got rid of his own—a slightly smoother process, given that he wasn't pinned down.

He was gasping more than breathing. Ash seemed to be handling himself a lot better than Gary—that was never how he pictured it. He always thought Ash would be the one hyperventilating.

"Jesus, Gary, that thing's massive."

"What?" He stood on his knees, investigating his own body and Ash's. "It's normal size…"

"It's _huge_."

He knew it was huge. He just didn't know what he was supposed to say.

"C'mon c'mon…" Ash tried to pull him back down, when the worst possible thing happened—Gary came. He felt the muted rush as he released onto Ash's naval, horrified.

They both stared, Gary shocked, Ash disappointed.

"Oh…oh my God I didn't mean to—"

"No, it's alright." Ash sighed and ran his thumb through the smear across his belly. He tucked it under his bottom lip, giving it a small suck.

"Wait…"

Ash looked up.

"I…I'm still good to go."

He smiled broadly.

Ash's knees folded up to his chest, his wrists crossed over his head, Gary moved in, and closed the final gap.

It was about what he expected.

He felt realities push and shove, until a memory found its way to the surface, clouding his consciousness like choking sex. Little Ash, Little Gary, petting ivysaur—Little Gary glaring at Little Ash, who'd found the right spot on the ivysaur's chin and was getting a better reaction than Little Gary, and Little Gary refusing to be beaten—Little Gary pushing Little Ash down, and the two tangling and thrashing until Ms. Ketchum picked up Little Ash under the armpits and dragged him home, scolding him, leaving bruised Little Gary to the discipline of his grandpa.

"Ow! What was that for!?"

He blinked back to the present, full visual and audio and not just sensation, where his fist was poised slightly past an aggravated Ash. He'd just punched him in the face. He didn't stop below, and after grappling for a moment, gave up on explaining.

Gary came his second time before Ash's first.

He pulled out, Ash's eyes pleading, and moved out from over him. Ash kicked, trying to work his way out from the blankets like trying to swim, and did a slow, controlled, head-first slide to the dirty motel floor on his back, Gary watching from a fascinated perch on the mattress. Ash made agitated noises, holding his groin but making no motion, struggling even now that he was free, and wiggled close against the crack between the bed and the floor. It took a moment for Gary to recognize the noises he was making was crying. He reached a hot hand down to touch the bare expanse of back, and got a tightening of muscles as a response.

"Ash, it's really dirty down there…"

The soft sounds of crying and harsh breathing continued. He blinked stupidly, looked around the hotel room, and crawled over the bed, to find his way into the other bed. Dazed, he fell asleep to the white noise of Ash's snuffling.


	5. Chapter 5

Gary didn't expect it to be like this.

When he woke up, Ash was still on the floor, sticky with tears and sweat and cum. It was a little painful to see him like that, like a used and broken object, and Gary felt a twinge of guilt he couldn't explain. He didn't feel like he'd done anything wrong.

He toed Ash until he began stupidly blinking awake, then took the bathroom. He took a short, cold shower, traded rooms with Ash, and spent his entire time alone searching for his clothes. The first words spoken between them the morning after were, "Have you seen my pants?"

The lapras had returned on its own, but they caught a ferry passing without much difficulty. They sat on opposite sides of the boat, Ash gazing lazily in the direction the boat was sailing, Gary glaring at the spray coming out of the tail end. It was past noon before they pulled up to the soggy dock on the nose of Sayda, and they made the short walk back to the round house silently.

Gary saw Ash go down the hallway leading to the bedroom on his path to Dora's office. He lifted an eyebrow, but couldn't make himself ask.

Dora called for him to come in when he knocked. He opened the door and leaned on the doorframe, trying to arrange his face into something amiable.

"Oh, you're back! How's Ash?" She scooted back from her desk but didn't make to get up.

"What? Oh, he's gonna be fine—he got seventy stitches in his arm, and it's probably gonna scar pretty bad, but he'll live."

She stuck out her lower lip and gave him a look he couldn't properly read, but that left him feeling a bit x-rayed. "Alright." She turned back to her desk. "We fed the Pokemon, but that's about all. You know, you've been a lot more laid back since Ash came. Oh, and your grandpa called." He felt her dismissal, thanked her, and left.

Outside the door, he stopped, sighed heavily, and got walking again.

Professor Oak's phone rang three times before his smiling face appeared on screen, a skiploom squeaking irately on his shoulder. "Gary, good to see you—yes yes I _hear_ you." He tried to pet the skiploom, and it bounded off his shoulder and into his lap, where it continued to rant. Oak rolled his eyes and smiled.

Gary did his best to speak over the squeaking. "Good to see you, too. Dora said you called?"

"Oh, yes, nothing important, just checking in—I hope you're not busy?"

"Nah, just coming back from taking Ash to the hospital—did Dora tell you what happened?"

Oak's attention was suddenly caught. "Ash?"

"Oh yeah, did you not know Ash was staying with us? Sorry, I figured you would hear from his mom or he told you before he left or something."

He was surprised by his grandpa's shocked expression, inquisitive and incredulous. "Gary…Ash has been missing for over a month. He's there?"

…_What_?

"Gary, how long has Ash been living there?"

He had to shake himself to get his mind back in place. "Uh, uh, about a month—he didn't tell anyone he was leaving? Why did he run away?"

Oak considered him for another moment, concern leaking into his expression. The skiploom had sensed the change in mood and was staring at the professor intently, silent. "I should call his mom, she's been a wreck. She'll probably be calling soon, don't get too far away from the phone. You can talk to Ash yourself." He hung up.

Gary glared at the blank screen. "…ASH!?"

--

He was rubbing his eyes when he came to the bedroom door. "What?"

"You ran away?"

It took him a moment to register, his eyes suddenly wide and sleepless. "Oh my God, did you tell someone I was here!?"

"Ash, what the _fuck_! You've been using me as a hide out!? Why in the hell would you run away!?" It only enraged him further to see Ash wander back into the room to sit on the bed, seemingly not bothered by Gary's tone. He let his head fall into his head, the picture of defeat. "_Ash_!"

"Give me a minute, alright!? Christ!"

"No, you'll tell me now why you've been hiding here for a month. Look at me, Ash!"

Ash did look at him—he pulled his face out of his hands and glared, full-force, at the taller boy, still slumped. "It's none of your business, Gary!"

"It is my business when you're living with me to avoid seeing your mom or whatever the fuck you're avoiding."

They glared at each other for a few seconds. Ash was the first one to break eye contact, turning his head back forward to glare at nothing. "Why don't you just ask Professor Oak." He mumbled it rhetorically.

Gary stood in the doorway. The house fell silent.

The phone rang downstairs. They both jumped.

"That'll be your mom."

He rubbed the butt of his wrists into his eyes, grumbling.

"Go talk to your mom, Ash."

"I'm going." He finally did stand, looking sapped of energy, and stumbled past Gary, their shoulders slamming against each other.

He watched him go before slinking into the room and crawling onto the bed. There was too much blood in his head, unbalancing him.

"Missed me, like hell you did. Fucking asshole, fucking _cunt_." He slammed his fist into the mattress, which yielded unsatisfyingly. "Stupid little…_shit_." His chest had hollowed out.

Ash used me. God, I'm so fucking STUPID, of COURSE he did. FUCK, he was just using me the whole time—he probably just fucked me because he knew I was a FAGGOT and he wanted to keep his room, GOD, I'm so STUPID. FUCK.

His eyes went hot, and he had to stop thinking to keep himself from crying. His mind filled with static and he gripped the comforter white-knuckled, curled up in a poor attempt at hibernation.

After a few minutes, he heard the front door slam.

He perked up, just as he had been starting to actually feel sleepy, alert for more sounds—there weren't any. He had to talk to Oak, figure out what was going on.

The phone only rang once this time before his grandpa picked up, the skiploom gone. "Delia and Ash talked?"

"I guess. Ash told me to ask you. What's happening?"

His expression showed his distaste at being the one to tell the story. "Ash said told you it was alright if I told you?"

"Yeah, just tell me what happened!"

Oak bit his lip again, grimacing slightly, and blurted out, "Misty's pregnant, Ash is the father."

--

Tracey stopped in his tracks outside of Misty's door. He backed up slightly, and peered in, the pale glow of the TV screen illuminating his face.

The younger girl was sitting on her bed, her back against the wall, hugging a pillow between her lap and her chest. He'd noticed her typical sitting posture before, noticed the very Togepi-like size of the pillow. He couldn't tell if it was cute or sad.

"Misty, shouldn't you be asleep?"

She looked up at him, pouting. "Tracey, I'm not five—what time is it, ten?"

"Eleven, more like. Come on, you need lots of sleep." He walked into the room, took the remote delicately from her hand, like he was afraid of hurting her, and clicked off the TV, leaving them both blinking away blooms of color left by the sudden darkness.

"It's a good thing someone around here cares about this baby." She grumbled. Her night light, a new addition now that she was getting up to pee every three hours, gave off strong enough of a glow that they could see one another once they'd been given a moment to adjust. He set the remote on the bedside table and set about tucking her in—she scowled, but allowed herself to be guided under the blankets, letting Tracey pull them up to her chin.

"Don't talk like that, you're just being bitter."

She rubbed at her expanding belly under the blankets, her face blank of affection.

"You want me to bring you some water?"

"Yeah, like I need MORE water—I'm honestly just considering wearing adult diapers. I'm worn out from walking to the bathroom eighty thousand times a day."

He laughed, and a very tired smile came to her face. She looked as pretty as ever, even in her exhausted, pregnant state. Not pretty like her sisters, who were off on yet another vacation—not the shiny, colorful, girly kind. Misty had retained her Misty-ness. He was silently thankful for that.

"Thank you so much for helping me out…my sisters don't even give a crap."

"You know that's not true." He pulled her blinds shut, looking around the room for any other comfort violation.

"I wish I could be all nice and forgiving, like you." She let out a bark of cynical laughter. "No, but you know what's completely effing retarded? I think that if he came back, I would forgive him. God. I'm so pathetic."

Tracey's cheerful expression faltered for the first time—he was glad she didn't see. "You are not pathetic. Don't ever think that. How many people do you know that are strong enough to go through with having a baby all by themselves?"

She rolled her eyes. "All by myself, yeah right. You've been holding my hand for a month."

"C'mon, stop worrying. You're too stressed out."

She nodded, sighed contently, and stretched both her arms out in front of her expectantly. "Hug."

He smiled as he stooped down into her arms, where she delivered a bear hug that made her give a little grunt, and let go, snuggling her way down under the blankets. "Night."

"Night." He left the door cracked as he left.


	6. Chapter 6

Gary had been fully intending to charge Ash from behind, spin him around, and punch him until either his hand broke or Ash's face did. However, as he stomped across the sandy-scattered dirt toward the dock, where Ash sat, staring into the water, he noted he was poking tenderly at his face already. He craned his neck slightly, and saw a large, liver-colored bruise spread on the far side of his eye, leaking under his hair. He recognized it as the spot he'd hit last night. How had he not noticed that before?

Ash turned lazily as he heard Gary approaching. "Oak tell you?"

"Yeah."

"My mom doesn't want me home right now…she's pretty pissed."

"You've fucked up _so bad_, Ash. Christ, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Ash pulled his knees up to his chest, burying his face in his hands again. "Everyone else is yelling at me, please don't you start too."

The fire in Gary roared suddenly—he stomped out the distance between them and shoved Ash's head out of his hands, 'til he was looking straight up, shocked. "Ash quit being such a fucking pussy _bitch_ and deal with the problems you've made for everyone!"

"I know, alright!?" He threw his hands up. "I fucking know! I don't need the wise professor Gary Oak to advise me to go fix this shit—if you have any clue how, you just tell me, alright!? Nobody wants this stupid baby and she won't get rid of it, and I'll bet she never wants anything to do with me again anyway, _fuck_. My mom hates me, I've got nothing fucking left, and none of this is your problem anyway, so leave me the hell alone!"

The sudden change from Ash's shouting to the soft sound of the waves was a little shocking.

"You honestly don't think it's my problem?" He shifted his weight from one foot to the next. His rib cage was empty again. If Ash made eye contact, he knew everything inside him would flatten.

"_No_." Soft and tired. "If you want me off the island I'll go, I don't know where the hell I'll go but I don't give a shit. Fuck, I don't even fucking care about anything." His head fell back into his hands.

Gary watched him for a while, half disgusted, half heart broken, considered pushing him off the dock, and managed to only mutter, "You're not the victim, you know." Before turning and walking back to the house.

--

Gary was trying to grasp the situation.

He sat at the kitchen table, chewing on a peanut butter sandwich that tasted acidic, rubbing at Umbreon's neck with his foot. Pikachu sat on the table in front of him, head cocked inquisitively. He didn't hate Pikachu. He reached forward and scratched its chin with his free hand.

Ash hadn't lost his virginity last night.

Ash had sex with Misty. Ash had sex with Misty before he had sex with Gary. Ash probably wanted to have sex with Misty.

Ash got his best friend pregnant then abandoned her at her most vulnerable time, and was now pitying himself.

Ash was a bigger asshole than he'd ever expected.

Ash had never actually missed him, he'd only needed him to think that so he could have a place to hide.

He reached under the table and handed the last corner of his sandwich to Umbreon, who licked his fingers as he took it. Pikachu took advantage of his new pose to crawl up his arm and onto his shoulder, a slightly heavy weight but comforting.

Ash didn't have much left, but Gary felt like everything had been taken from him in one hit.

It wasn't important now, it was just another newly tainted memory, but he couldn't keep himself from returning to the happy places in his mind, even if coming out would kill him worst of all.

Little Gary and Little Ash again. Five or six, he couldn't remember. Gary holding Ash's hand, sticky with jelly, pulling him past the row of trees in his back yard. It was a thin layer, so they could still be seen from the kitchen window, but veiled by leaves and sticks and trunks. This area, only slightly visible from every side, had become their hide out at Gary's—like the area under the bed at Ash's, if you pulled the little curtain.

They let go and sat down on the soft, dead grass. Ash's eyebrows were cocked, suspicious, as he usually was when Gary was excited to share something with him—not without reason. Best friends though they may have been, Ash was funny to make cry.

"Whaat?"

"I saw your mom and my grandpa _kissing_." It spilled out of his grinning mouth, the most exciting news he'd had in at least a month.

"Ew!" He was delighted.

"I know!"

"When?"

"Yesterday, when your mom came to pick you up, 'member when I went in to the bathroom and they were talking in the kitchen? They weren't talking!"

"Eww! Why didn't you tell me yesterday?"

He shook his head, and hair fell into his green eyes. "No time. But like, they were doing it weird."

"Weird how?" Ash.

"Like…they weren't just shoving their lips together. It was all, like, open and stuff."

"Huh?"

"I think that's how grown ups do it."

Ash giggled, his fingers latticing over his mouth. "Why do they do it so weird?"

"I don't know why they do it at all, it looks gross."

"Maybe it feels good or something. Here…"

He leaned forward and pushed his scabbed lips against Gary's, eyes closed. They held for a nasal inhale, exhale, and inhale, then pulled apart.

"Did that feel good?"

Gary rubbed his mouth off on the back of his wrist. "I guess. I mean, holding hands and hugging and stuff's better, but that's alright."

"Show me how they were doing it."

"Okay, open your mouth…no, not like that, like an o…okay, close your eyes." He tilted his head to the side to keep their noses from colliding and placed his own slightly open mouth over Ash's. Just like he'd seen Mrs. Ketchum do, he poked his tongue into Ash's mouth. It tasted like jelly. He did his best to move around a little, like he'd seen, but it felt wrong now that he was doing it. He scowled and pulled away.

"I'm not sure that was right."

Ash was blushing. Gary didn't particularly notice or care. "I liked that better than the other one."

"Really? It's just all…wet. I mean, I don't want to be drinking anyone's spit."

"I don't mind." Ash smiled and shrugged. "I saw a magikarp in the river on the walk home!"

"Really?"

"Yeah! You wanna go see if we can find it again?"

"Okay!"

That was around the first time Gary'd noticed anything about Ash past the typical little adjectives he categorized everyone into—not just black hair, stupid, short, but new things he didn't know words for. Ash was Ash, and nobody else was. That seemed significant.

He sighed and let his head fall to the table. Pikachu scurried onto his back, leaning over his head.

Ash was Ash. He didn't have a reserve of Ashes ready for when the original failed him. He had run out of Ashes.

He heard the thud of bare feet in the hall leading into the kitchen—he lifted his head, causing Pikachu to dig its claws into his neck to keep itself balanced before hopping gracelessly to the table, mouth slightly open, as Crystal stepped into the kitchen.

She stopped, hip cocked. "Who crapped in your cornflakes?"

He rolled his eyes and turned back away from her. She stepped around the table, until she was in his line of vision again. "Seriously, you look even more miserable than usual. What's wrong with you?"

He stared at her through his eyelashes for a second. She was twelve now—older than he had been when he started his research, and still screwing around.

"It has to do with Ash, right?"

He lifted his head.

"You're gay, right? I mean, me and Dora both thought so forever, and now seeing you and Ash together it's really really obvious. So it has something to do with Ash? We both figured he liked you back, but we could be wrong. Were we?"

His breath gathered again—had he really been being that obtuse about it? How had they even thought he was gay in the first place? "I'm—I'm not…I don't _know_."

"Do you like Ash?"

"…Yeah."

"Then you're gay!"

"That's not true, I guess…I mean, I've only ever liked Ash…I—I don't like boys in general, I just like the one…"

"Do you like girls? Those girls on your closet, did you like them?"

"Yeah I liked them--!"

"_Sexually_."

"Uh…well, no…not really."

"And they're _hot_."

"I know. But it's not just about appearances, you know—"

She waved him away. "So Ash rejected you?"

He let his chin fall into his palms. "I think he likes someone else."

"You _think_? Be sure before you burn any bridges."

He blinked, trying to put his thoughts into words, mouth open. After an impatient beat, the younger girl shrugged her bare shoulders and continued on her path through and out of the kitchen, leaving Gary by himself again.

--

Ash came back into the house around nightfall, scratching at bug bites on his calves and holding an expression that deterred conversation from Crystal and Dora. He disappeared into Gary's room before dinner, leaving Gary to finish his work and curl up on an arm chair with a throw blanket. He knew sharing a bed was out of the question from then on. He slept dreamlessly out of pure exhaustion—the sky was already beginning to pale.

He was woken up an hour and a half later by Dora flicking on the light. He grumbled and buried his head under the insignificant blanket, and she flicked it back off.

"Gary?" Her voice was directly over him. "Do you want to go sleep in my bed?"

"Nooo…I have to feed the Pokemon and all…" He began shifting to untangle himself from the blanket.

"I can do it if you want."

"…Yeah…could you? I'm…"

"Don't worry about it." She reached down and pat his head, causing Gary to raise his eyebrows. "You need anything, I'm here, alright?"

"Crystal talked to you?"

"Yeah."

He sighed and shrugged, before standing, carrying the blanket soaked in his body heat to the base of the stairs before Dora spoke up again.

"I'm not saying anything, you know, but you've been a lot…happier and more easy-going since Ash came. I mean, I don't know, just saying." She averted her eyes, leaning over the top of the arm chair.

"Uh…have I?"

"Oh, yeah."

Gary smiled, and she returned it, before turning back to the stairs.

--

There was warm skin pressed into his stomach. That realization brought him out of his drowsy half-sleep fully—he opened his eyes glaring, and peered down, to where Ash lay at the foot of the bed, gripping onto his leg with his face pressed into where Gary's shirt had ridden up, asleep and drooling.

He kicked with the leg Ash had in a vice grip, his knee thudding into Ash's chest, which caused him to jerk awake, brown eyes wide.

"No." Gary scolded.

He released and sat up, stretching his arms overhead until both elbows cracked, giving Gary a nice but unwelcome pose to observe. He wasn't sure if the pressure in his pants was just morning wood or not.

"Sorry…I figured I would wake up before you…sleeping with Pikachu doesn't work so good anymore, I kind of need…a person." He bit his lower lip.

"I don't think you should be getting into bed with any more people."

"Oh come on, Gary."

Gary glared at him.

"What do you want from me?"

"I want you to not be such an asshole to the mother of your child."

He winced. Gary's wording had cut deeper than he expected. "She probably doesn't want me there…"

"Shouldn't you at least try? You're not even trying."

"…You think I should go back to Cerulean?"

It was fully bright outside. Another missed day of work.

"…I guess."

Ash was folding the edge of the blanket into a fan shape over his knees, gnawing his lip. Gary kicked the remainder of it off his feet and pulled his knees up to his chest, sort of needing to be held even if it was by himself.

"Is your arm alright?"

"Do you really care?"

"Yeah."

Ash let out a breathy laugh, and wiggled his elbow slightly. "It stings like hell, but I'm fine. I thought you hated me?"

"I never said that."

"…So I guess I'm leaving. You—you want me to leave?"

"I…you should…maybe you should talk to her first."

Ash's face lifted slightly. "Yeah, I can call her. I mean…I…I got her…" He shook his head, unfolded his legs, and hopped off the edge of Dora's bed. "I'll shower and junk and then call her."

"Good."

He smiled weakly and padded out of the room. The moment he was gone, Gary hugged himself more tightly, burying his face in the darkness between his knees and his chest, and tried to keep his lungs from exploding in his chest.


	7. Chapter 7

Tracey was wrist-deep in dirty dish water when he heard the phone ring. He made a low, angry sound, dropped a pan loudly into the mess, and rushed to the dry dish towel hanging off the stove.

"I GOT IT!" Misty called from the living room.

"No, no, I'll get it, you stay put!" He wrung his hands out rushedly.

"God, Tracey, it's right there—" The phone quieted mid-ring.

He made another noise, dropped the towel on the kitchen floor, and sped-walked to the living room, where Misty sat, wide-eyed, on the chair in front of the phone. As he walked behind her, he saw why—Ash was on the screen, smiling apologetically.

"…So I…I'm so sorry I disappeared so long. I called to…to see how you're doing. Misty?"

She stared, gape-mouthed, at the screen. Tracey waved from over her shoulder, and Ash looked up to him, offering a smile and wave back.

"…You fucking _asshole_!"

"I know! I know I'm an asshole, I'm so sorry, I know I deserve to have the shit kicked out of me and—I'm just SO SORRY, Misty."

Tracey agreed, but didn't butt in.

She glared at the screen for a while. "Well…you just called to talk?"

"No, I'm sorry—um, would you want me to come back? I—I could…help take care of the baby, and…"

She gazed down at her belly. "You want the baby?"

"…Um. I…I should be a part of it…"

"But do you _want_ it?"

He fell silent, looking down at his lap.

"You can come stay at the gym if you want."

"Do you want me to?"

"Yeah."

Tracey's heart ached quickly and badly. What was wrong with him? What could Ash do that he couldn't?

"Alright…I'll catch the next ferry." He didn't sound excited.

"Okay."

"Bye?"

"Bye." The screen went blank.

She turned and, with difficulty, rose out of the chair. "I guess I'm not such a derelict after all."

"Do we really need Ash here?" It slipped out before he could find a better wording—he nearly clapped his hands over his mouth.

She looked up to him, leaning back slightly, so that her back cracked. "Need?"

"Never mind. Uh. You…okay?"

"Oh yeah, I'm fine." She sighed. "I mean, Ash is coming back…we can raise the baby like a family or something…I don't know what's going to happen, but…you know. Yeah, I'm fine." She smiled. "How are you?"

"I'm great."

--

"I'm going back to Cerulean."

Gary dropped Pikachu. It landed awkwardly on its feet and belly. He turned fully away from his desk, eyebrows knit desperately, to look at Ash where he stood in the doorway.

"I—I guess I'll get the next ferry…when does it leave?"

"Tomorrow." He managed to keep his voice from shaking.

"Okay…then I should pack…right?"

Gary nodded.

"Right…go do that…" He disappeared from the doorway.

Gary froze for a moment, until he was sure Ash was gone, then spun in his chair back to the desk, where he slammed his forehead down hard enough to hurt.

"Pika?"

--

Gary watched Ash stub his toe on the leg of the bed and swear loudly, his face registering slight amusement. He had pulled his knees up to his chest again, sitting on the end of the bed, occupying himself and ignoring his research by supervising Ash's packing endeavor. Watching all the little traces of him be picked up and stowed away felt unbearably lonely.

"Do you have any laundry in the washer or anything?"

"Mm-mm, I checked." He got down on the floor to look under the bed, butt in the air.

"It's…good of you to be doing this. I mean, taking responsibility."

"Yeah." He resurfaced carrying three dirty socks.

"Are you home sick at all?"

"Not really."

Gary loosed his posture slightly, stretching his legs over the edge of the bed. "I guess you're used to being away from home anyway."

"I've kind of gotten used to being here, actually." He didn't find this statement worthy of eye contact. He put his hands on his hips to consider the bloated suitcase he'd loaded all of his clothes and his few other possessions into. He flipped the lid shut and unzipped the top pocket, making an agitated sound as a few items slipped out and to the floor—he got down again to gather them.

Gary narrowed his eyes, looking at a small white object in Ash's hands. "Hey…is that that pokeball?"

"Hm? Ash looked up. "Um, yeah." He dropped his handful of miscellaneous items onto the bed—Gary saw something that looked like a fucked up Misty. He didn't feel like asking.

"Oh, wow, those things are old."

"It's my good luck charm…it…it hasn't been working too well lately, but I like having it around."

Gary smiled. At least he was important in that way.

Ash crawled up onto the bed, staring at the rusted half of the pokeball in his hand, looking absorbed. Gary now inspected his face.

Well, they might not see each other again…the question bubbled in him, and he let it go.

"Ash what the HELL is on your face?"

He looked up. "Huh? Is there something on my face?"

"There always is, you have these…on your cheeks?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Look in the mirror!"

"Stop fucking with me, Gary, it's not funny."

"_God damnit_!"


	8. Chapter 8

"Ferry's late." Ash grumbled, his nose pressed against the screen door.

"It'll get here." Gary sat with his back against the wall, biting his thumb nail jagged.

Ash sighed, rolling his face down so that his forehead was smashed against the glass. He heard a clock tick somewhere in the house—maybe the one in the kitchen. He wondered where Dora and Crystal were, why they were so quiet. They would probably want to say goodbye, why weren't they there?

"_Hbbrlk_--!"

"What?" Gary looked back to where Ash stood—his hand clamped over his mouth, a spatter of what looked like puke sliding down the screen door.

"Oh my God are you okay?"

"F—_gwaaa_…" he pulled his hand away, letting another wave of vomit slip down his chin and to his shirt.

"Ash?"

Gary watched as he lowered himself to a sitting position on the foyer floor, dirty hands clamped over his face. His shoulders were shaking.

"Ash…?"

"Y-you're ruh-really gonna let me just…_leave_?"

He waited, listening to Ash's sobs.

"Oh _Gooood_ I fucking did it AGAIN. Oh God oh God oh God—it can't end like this, it can't it can't it can't, not you, I can't let you end like this, it's not supposed to be like this, I was gonna fix this, I was gonna—I was gonna—" He let out a wail. "_Don't make me go_! _I'm not ready to leave again_!"

"Ash?"

He was crying so hard he was almost incoherent. "_I tried so hard! So fucking hard!_"

"What're you talking about?"

He whipped around, his face flooded and red with tears, and shouted, "_I love you you asshole_! But nooo I had to fuck you and leave you, God, I'm such a fucking USELESS WHORE, I messed up Misty's life, then I went and messed up mine, and I didn't mean for it to be like this! I—I thought, I thought coming here I could finally fix everything, and maybe you'd love me back and that's all I ever wanted anyway, and now I'm just leaving and we'll never see each other again, will we, and I won't have anything left at all! What the fuck is wrong with me!?" He slammed his face back down into his hands.

Gary stared numbly at Ash, curled up, wet, and crying so hard he was almost shouting, on the floor. He blinked blindly a few times before getting to his hands and knees to crawl over toward the other boy, where he knelt beside him, hugging him tightly around the shoulders and pushing his wet face into his chest.

"_Don't. _Don't even bother, I'm fucking terrible. Fffuck I don't know why I even hoped you'd want me, how could you want me?"

Gary buried his face in Ash's hair, squeezing him tightly. "Shut up, Ash. I love you too."

"No you don't."

"I said shut up."

He rocked the shaking Ash gently, until they did a controlled fall onto their sides on the tile floor. He didn't feel a build up before the hot tears started overflowing in his eyes, no short breath or clog in his throat, just tears. Ash's legs slid around his, until they were tangled together, crying and pathetic.

Gary spoke up first for once. "You really mean all that? I thought…"

"Yeah."

"…When I don't know where you are or what you're doing or even if you're still alive, when you're out there, that fucking _kills_. I just…I want you to be safe and nearby." He nuzzled his face deeper into Ash's hair. "And I want to be able to touch you whenever I want, and I want you to like me more than anyone else."

"I do."

"You do?"

He hiccupped. "I…I don't want to leave."

"I don't want you to either."

"We want a lot."

"Yeah."

He hiccupped again. "I got puke all over you."

"I don't mind."

Ash titled his head back, wiggling up, and pressed their noses together, so that their flooded eyes were aligned. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Ash emitted a squealing sound that caught Gary entirely by surprise, a grin overtaking his wet face, and briefly shoved their lips together—Gary didn't feel particularly sexual at the moment. Just blind affection and euphoria.

He suddenly pulled his head over Ash's gazing out the screen door and past the flat front end of the island. "The ferry's leaving."

"Haha, well shit." Ash laughed, one of the first real-sounding ones Gary had heard from him in four years.

--

"Where in the hell are Dora and Crystal?" Gary asked, before grabbing the giant glass of chocolate milk from Ash and taking a swig.

"I'm so dehydrated." Ash took it back, straddling Gary's lap on the arm chair, and drank until he ran out of breath. He handed it back after.

"Yeah, you bawled like a baby."

"So did you. Okay, it's not important. I'm gonna tell you everything, okay? You have to promise not to hate me after."

"I could never, ever hate you."

Ash laughed again, waving it away. "Okay, did you ever meet Ritchie?"

"Um…"

"He was at the Indigo Conference, he had a pikachu and a charmeleon…"

"The really boringly good kid?"

"Boringly good?"

"Yeah, I remember him."

"Okay, not that time, but like a year after, me and him ended up alone, annnd we did stuff."

"God damn Ash!"

"He started it. I mean, God, we were like, eleven, I had no idea what was even going on. And I thought we were together after that. I mean, he was no _you_, but I liked Ritchie, yaknow? So I was pretty happy about that. But then the next day he just lost total interest in me. I was so confused, he seemed like he didn't even like me anymore. I didn't see him after that. And I don't know, that fucked me up or something—it just…started to feel like I had to do the same thing. So…I just…did." He pouted, and Gary rolled his eyes, but ruffled his hair.

"So you were a slut?"

"Um. Yeah. I mean, usually just with people I thought I would never see again, and I don't mean _hundreds_, like, ten. I was kind of bad about it though. Like I even came onto Brock once, thank GOD he turned me down right off, he was pretty cool about it but he's been a little bit awkward since then. Just a little."

Gary crinkled his nose. Ash grabbed back the cup and took another long drink.

"Then I was all depressed, so I wanted to have a place to stay instead of just all the traveling. I stayed with mom for a while, but she was just so proud of me all the time I couldn't stand it, so I stayed with May and Max, then I slept with their next door neighbor and I just didn't want to see him anymore, so I moved in with Misty. You know Misty's always liked me, right?"

"Duh."

"I didn't even notice when I was little. But, uh, I _love_ Misty, just platonically. She's my best friend. But I figured if it would make her happy…well she was the first person I…I wouldn't call it a _relationship_, but we screwed around a few times. I think she was hoping it would turn into a relationship. I had no idea what to do, not because it was _her_, but because it was _anyone_, you know? And then she found out she was pregnant, and she didn't even tell anyone for like three or four months, so she obviously didn't really trust me either, and she was all distant during that time, too, and when she DID tell me, it's not like she was happy about it. So we played house for like three days, all pretending we could deal with it, and then…I freaked out and ran for it. I just camped out for a few days, then I thought, 'hey, maybe I'm not incurable. Maybe Gary'd still want to see me. Maybe everything'll work out.' I totally wasn't even thinking about Misty, I'm an asshole, I know. So I went to a pokecenter a few towns away from Pallet and called you and…well you know everything else."

Gary nodded.

"Hate me?"

"I told you I wouldn't."

Ash kissed his forehead. "I'm fixed now."

"Oh?"

"I swear to God. I got what I want, why should I sleep around?"

"Wonder what happened to Ritchie…"

Ash shrugged.

"…And now we still have to fix everything with Misty and the baby…"

"'We', hehe. I really feel like I can do anything right now. I'm not even worried."

"Can I finish this?" Gary lifted the milk.

"No, share it."

"There's not even that much left."

"I'm still thirsty!"

"Go get more then.

"No, I'm comfy."

Gary quickly chugged the last of it, then stuck out his tongue, eyes closed, and made a small noise as Ash bit down on it.

He agreed with Ash—he'd never felt so strong.


	9. Chapter 9

The house was still quiet over an hour later. The sound of the clock ticking and Ash breathing deeply through his nose was the only sound as the pair sat in front of the phone, Ash on the chair, Gary sitting on the floor beneath him.

"Ready?" He asked, trying to imbue some confidence into his new boyfriend with a smile.

"Not really." Ash sighed, and began dialing the phone. While it rang, Gary grabbed a hold of his fingers and began playing with them.

It was Tracey's face that came onto the screen this time, quickly turning from cheerful to suspicious when he saw who the caller was.

"Hey Ash…"

"Hi Tracey! Um, would, you mind if I talked to Misty?"

"What do you want to say?"

Ash was quietly taken aback. "Uh…why does it matter?"

"You haven't been very good to her, I just want to make sure you won't say something to bother her. She's pretty pregnant, it's a bad idea to get her worked up…"

"Wow, Tracey, you really worry about her."

"Someone has to."

"Okay…I know I've been a complete asshole, but I worry about her too. I swear to God, I never ever want to do anything to hurt her again, cross my heart. Can I please talk to her?"

Tracey glared at him, before his face dissolved into a sad smile. "Well…you're her favorite, anyway." He sighed, stood up, and walked outside the screen.

Ash reached down with his other hand to envelope Gary's while they waited quietly.

A pregnant belly came onscreen before Misty lowered herself slowly to the stool. "Ash? Are you okay?" I thought you were coming today…"

"I'm…I don't think I'm coming."

She let out a push of breath, glaring. "Ohh of course you're not. How come?"

"Okay Misty, I just want you to know that you're the best friend I've ever had, and from the moment I met you I never once treated you half as well as you deserve."

The glare left her face, leaving it slightly concerned. "Ash…"

"It's just…I don't love you like that. You're like my sister and my best friend, but…not my girlfriend. I know you like my different than I like you, and that's okay. I can't stand for you to hate me, and I don't want to run away from you anymore, but I can't be with you like that."

She sighed, brushing a lock of hair from her face. "I guess I always kinda figured."

"And…I'm just telling you because you're important to me and all…I…I'm kinda with Gary now…"

She didn't respond.

"I'm not leaving you again…."

"You were always really obviously, well, _whatever_ with him. I guess that's not unexpected."

"You're allowed to be mad."

"I'm not, though."

They smiled at each other, and Gary realized that Ash held a relationship with Misty that was on a completely different spectrum than the one they had—one that he would never be a part of, and probably never really understand. He felt strangely comfortable with this.

"So…the baby?"

Misty held her stomach in both hands. "I'm going to be honest with you, I don't want to be a mom."

"Um…maybe adoption or something?"

"I…I don't know…"

Gary squeezed Ash's hand suddenly. "Ash, Ash—"

"What?"

"I want it."

"What?"

"We can be dads, you'd make a good parent and so would I, and it's your baby, and it needs to go somewhere—_I want it_."

Misty cocked her head in a cute way. "Is Gary there? God damnit I didn't know Gary was there, you bastards."

"Oh, sorry, didn't mean to eavesdrop." Gary got up on his knees to let Misty see him.

She rolled her eyes. "Hi, Gary."

He grinned sheepishly. "Hi."

"Gary we're fifteen, we can't be parents, and you have your research and—"

"I fucking hate my research. I'm seriously going to cut back. I don't have to be the one to discover everything, and Dora always needs recognition—she can take over where I left off."

"You can't honestly think this would work out."

"Go for it, Ash!" Misty laughed. "Come on, you won't know until you try."

"I--…I like kids…"

"Remember Larvitar?" Misty was cooing now, nearly giddy. "You were so careful and sweet with Larvitar, just like a mommy."

Gary laughed. "Don't you want to be a mommy?"

Ash stuck out his tongue at Gary, before turning back to Misty. "Well, if you trust us, I'll give it a shot."

"Ohh Ash, I love you! Gary, thank you so much—I really do trust you two. Thank you thank you thank you!"

"So are we all square?" Ash asked, fiddling with Gary's hands again.

"Yeah. I mean…I can't stay mad at you." She laughed. "God, it's like a five months weight's been lifted! I love you guys so much."

Gary blushed, while Ash seamlessly replied, "Love you too."

"Can you come visit soon?"

"Oh, that'd be awesome!"

"Great! Call often, okay? Oh God, I have to tell Tracey! Okay, thanks again, bye!"

"Bye!" The two boys said in unison, before the screen clicked off.

They turned back to each other, slightly blank-faced.

"God, worked out so well it almost makes you want to hurl, doesn't it?" Ash mumbled.

"That's pessimistic."

"Just saying, I mean, it's just so weirdly perfect."

"Where the fuck did Crystal and Dora get to?" He put his head into Ash's lap, enjoying the contact.

"Hey, wanna do it?"

"You've had enough sex for now, I think."

Ash half pouted, half glared, leaving him looking like a kid. "Well then when?"

"…Later tonight."

"Oh, okay."

"…Alright, we can make out now."

"Hell yeah!"

--

"…Isn't that great?" Misty cried, clapping her hands together.

Tracey leaned against the kitchen counter, smiling. In a way, it was a little sad—maybe just because it was inside Misty, but he'd started to feel attached to the unborn baby. Still, if she was happy about it, so was he. "It is great!"

"I don't even mind losing Ash. I always kinda knew it wouldn't work out. But jeez, I've liked him for five years, it's so weird to think I can actually be interested in other guys now."

Tracey felt something inside him spring to life. "Really?"

"Oh, yeah, I bet I'll meet an even better guy. A lot of my Ash thing was probably just based on momentum anyway, you know?"

"Yeah, I do."

She let out a bubbly giggle, threw out her arms, and wrapped them around his middle. "I really feel like things are going to start getting better from here on out!"

"Me too!"


	10. Epilogue

Gary and Ash gasped as the door to the office opened, followed by Dora gasping and slamming it back shut, after catching a split second view of Ash seated up on Gary's desk, both hands buried in Gary's pants, while Gary attempted to chew through Ash's shirt.

"LOCK THE DOOR!"

"KNOCK!" They shouted it in unison, while Gary zipped up and Ash slid off the desk, both bright red. The gust from the door had brushed an amassment of papers from the counter against the back wall, which in turn had knocked over one of the flimsier frames in one of the clusters of pictures around the room. Ash made an agitated sound and stumbled over to right it, while Gary gathered his papers from the floor.

She rapped twice on the door.

"Come in." Gary laughed.

Hair mussed, she poked her head in, as red as the other two. "Sammy's crying."

"Shit, we really need to get new batteries for the baby monitor. Okay, thanks, sorry—"

"Seriously. The door has a lock for a reason, you guys."

"The door has a lock so we can fool around in the office?" Ash asked, grinning.

"Don't be a smart-ass, Ashy-boy. Go take care of your baby." She rolled her eyes, bemused, and left.

"I'll take care of it—" Gary started, before being interrupted.

"I wanna go! You always do everything, she's gonna be all in love with you and not even care about me." He stuck out his lower lip, and Gary desperately wished they hadn't been interrupted.

On the walk across the house, they agreed that foreplay was no longer a necessity—not in times like these.

"Like, seriously, my balls? You ever slam your nail in anything? That color."

"Ash, don't talk like that in front of Sammy."

In the corner of the tiny bedroom had been added a cheap, net crib, where a dark-haired baby was making fussing sounds, quieting now that she heard comforting voices.

"She doesn't know what I'm saying, she's not even one…"

"_Ohh_ Samuel Misty Oak, is that you crying? Come here cutie pie…" Gary leaned halfway into the crib to scoop her into his arms. He turned back to where Ash was moping in the entryway, bouncing the baby on his hip. "See, Ash, come here and look…" He traced his finger over the zig-zagging shapes on her face. Her bright green eyes followed his finger's movement. "You can't tell me you don't see those."

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about. I think you're just crazy. Give me my Sammy." He reached out his arms.

Gary gazed at him scrutinizingly. "Be careful, all right? Don't drop her, support her head—"

"Jesus, Gary, quit being so anal!"

"_Language_."

He rolled his eyes and shook his hands. "Gimme."

He sighed, and carefully, slowly, transferred the quiet little weight into Ash's arms. She made a soft noise and gummed down onto Ash's chest, right over the wet spot left by her other dad.

Ash grimaced. "Oh, God—is that bad!? Should I put her down?"

"I think she's trying to suckle you."

"Euuurgh okay you take her, I'll go get formula…" He poured her unceremoniously into Gary's arms and sped out of the room—however, Gary followed him out, Samuel mumbling "Pi, pi, pi," in beat with his steps. He beamed down at her.

"Hey, have Misty and Tracey called lately?" He asked Ash's back.

"No. Ever since they got together they don't give a crap about us anymore."

Crystal was in the kitchen, kicking her feet under the table and spooning cereal into the tiny fluff of an eevee sitting up on the table. Pikachu sat on the chair across from her, eying the process carefully. She looked up, eyes sliding over both Ash and Gary to the baby, and she instantly stood, bright and alert. "You gonna feed Sammy?"

"Yeah, you wanna help?" Gary asked.

"Yeah!"

She sat back down on the kitchen chair, the eevee squeaking, so that Pikachu crawled up onto the table to lick at its ears, and Gary gently lowered the baby into her lap. He kissed her on the forehead, causing her to elicit a cry of "Pi!"

Ash handed Crystal the bottle of formula, and she instantly set about feeding her—she didn't need briefing. it had become a common process to her.

"You're so good at that, Crystal." Ash smiled. Gary made a tutting noise and laced his fingers into Ash's, dragging him down the hallway leading toward the bedroom, forcing him to walk backwards. "Man, I don't have words to describe how much I love that thing. Where we going?"

"C'mon, I'll give you a blow job real quick."

"Oh, cool! I love you too, yaknow."

"Love you too, Ass."

"I really liked Ashy-boy better."

"Haha, yeah."


End file.
